


Overexposed

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Catboys & Catgirls, Fluff, Gentle Spook, Haunted Library, M/M, Spirits, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There is a library high in the lost castle's north tower where the sunlight is warm-fingered.
Relationships: Catboy/Ghost Boy, OMC/OMC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Jump Scare 2020





	Overexposed

**Author's Note:**

> thank you LamiaCalls for the beta, all remaining mistakes are mine

There is a library high in the lost castle’s north tower where the books smell like the words they hold, and sunlight is warm-fingered as it streams in through windows that reach both ceiling and floor. There is a boy, too. He looks almost like Fael, but has cloud-wisp hair instead of tight amber curls, and kaleidoscopic eyes. His irises glimmer even in the shadows, as if inlaid with pieces stolen from the stained-glass windows themselves. 

The boy has no name only because he can’t speak, so Fael calls him _Nanid_ – it means ‘bright’ in his tongue. Nanid disappears, sometimes, when Fael is lost between pages. There are countless books here, after all – tomes full of spells his master would never teach him, histories grander than the wildest stories; flowery prose and straightforward poems that colour Fael’s cheeks peach-pink, more vivid than the enchanted fruit that ever-grows in the sprawling orchards far below.

And Fael can’t help the twitch of his tail just as he can’t help the warmth in his chest or how his eyes search for the soft smudge of Nanid’s shape. Nanid is always there where Fael seeks him, emerging between dense rows of bookshelves, or perhaps in the patterns carved by cracks in the old stone walls. 

And Nanid smiles just as he does everything else – slowly, with a languid ease that almost makes Fael wonder if he’s trapped in a honey-spun dream. Except it can’t be, for when Fael brings a hand to his chest, his heart beats firm beneath his fingertips; with Nanid’s each step, its rhythm quickens until Fael is blushing, fumbling to close the book in his lap lest Nanid come to understand the romances he has begun reading. 

In moments like this, Fael is selfishly glad that Nanid cannot ask. Still, Nanid keeps smiling and perhaps he knows, after all. Because if Fael stares, there is an angle to the pale curve of his lips, like a knife plunged deep in ripe fruit. It raises the short hairs on his neck, flattens his ears hard against his head. But almost always, it disappears before Fael blinks, and Nanid has melded into solid sunlight once again. 

Nanid’s left hand traces Fael’s waist, warm through his thin tunic; his right pets his head, fingers dewdrop-gentle as they caress the delicate tufts of Fael’s ears. Nanid’s every touch brims with unspoken insistence, and it’s only so long before sunbeams take form around Fael’s pliant body, pressing him into the worn velvet chaise. The heat becomes a haze that cocoons Fael, – seeps into his skin and bones and soul like water to earth – and Fael acquiesces with unbroken purrs.

His voice resonates across the small space. _Like a lovesong_ , Fael thinks, just as embarrassed as he is unable to stop – or perhaps it was Nanid murmuring voiceless feelings, mouth pressed to the shell of Fael’s ear. For a heartbeat, Fael shivers, tail bristled and spine arched, nerves tingling with a touch that was colder than winter’s darkest ice. But once again, Fael’s fear melts no sooner than it has formed, and Nanid is the sun embracing him, mellow.


End file.
